My lovin' man took me to a favorite locavore restaurant downtown. We ate some fresh fish. Swimming In The Ocean Yesterday Tuna. It was delicious.
We parked downtown in his favorite parking place which happens to be in front of an historical church and next to an historical park. Someone had stolen the historical marker which told the story of how the church got historical. Of course, it just happens to also be located on an historical street where visitors and locals alike historically come to cavort the night away with giant beers and neon beverages. We noticed as we were heading to aforementioned delicious fish that a fellow was relieving himself in the aforementioned historical park in a public trash receptacle. We made some jokes because what else is there to do upon seeing a fellow relieve himself into a public trash can? It ain't right.
I keep pondering the dilemma of one who has made a home in an historical park in an urban area. Where else would he relieve himself? He is not welcome in the historical establishments because he does not bathe regularly and, well, he is stinky, smelly, greasy.
Sometimes I feed the homeless with my family and with this or that church group. I have given people claiming to be homeless money from my pocket when asked and bought some of those coupon thingies the Mission offers. It always feels empty. It always feels like a drop of water landed in the desert.
He may be begging and it may be for the means to get a giant beer, but he's still got no place to Go. He might not be able to sleep well at night not because he is on a piece of cardboard he found but because he might be worried about the crazies lurking about the historical park. He may be insane. He may be an addict. He may have made some stupid choices with his life. It might be all his fault. He might not be that good of a person.
Does he look at me and dismiss me the way I do someone like Oprah with unimaginable wealth as one who could never understand folks in blue collar neighborhoods who drive around with their ABS light on hoping nothing will happen until the tax refund arrives?
I might be insane. Or I might be an addict. I definitely have made stupid choices. Nevertheless, I don't face the decision of whether or not to pee in a trash can because I have two toilets. I got me a cozy bed, heat/air, a new Scratch and Dent fridge, a dusty, black mini van, a flower garden and a Netflix subscription. Not to mention the warm body next to me in that cozy bed who argues with me about the heat/air, a mess of kids to cook for out of my Scratch and Dent, a dusty van full of people that trash it, a little girl to admire my flower garden and a son to watch My Name is Earl with me.
He pees in a trash can. I see no qualifications in Matthew 5:42 that preclude those who do.